


The Prophet on Her Knees

by Spoiler



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angry Sex, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 22:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3667800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoiler/pseuds/Spoiler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this prompt on the r/Solasmancers kinkmeme thread:</p>
<p>So I have a prompt. I really want a Lavellan that buys into the whole deification thing, a Lavellan that thinks she's totally a god, for sures. And I want a Solas that gets really, really irritated about it and decides to show her what a god is really like. With his penis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prophet on Her Knees

It had once been a place of infinite power and beauty--Tarasyl'an Te'las--“the place where the sky was held back”. Then the humans had come and leveled the sacred mountain, and the magic that was never meant to be theirs wormed its way into the stones of the fortress they built\--seeking purpose even among the ignorant children who would see it destroyed. Solas could feel the hum of magic in the walls calling to him like a far off brook softly babbling through his veins. He wondered if the Inquisitor sensed it as well. Probably she thought it was of her own doing. She seemed content to believe that Skyhold existed merely because she required it. That was the attitude she took toward everything. The world existed only for her. She was its savior, its herald. Others seemed to believe so as well. How they trembled at her benevolence!

It was infuriating to watch her pass benign judgement from her golden throne. At times he almost wished the intricately carved flames licking her back were as real as the ones they mimicked ,  but what an insufferable martyr  the Inquisitor  would make.  As if the throne wasn't enough, she had covered Skyhold in art sent by her many worshipers \--tapestries depicting the battle at Haven, paintings of Andraste which bore too close of a resembl anc e to herself, sculptures depicting her as various figures from elven lore. It was too much. One needn't be  First Enchanter to recognize poor taste. 

Solas had resolved to have a conversation with Inquisitor Lavellan on the matter.  He would voice his concerns  maturely, reasonably . He would not debase himself by letting his temper show.  He was not what her people said he was.  He would simply let her know that her behavior was unacceptable and injurious to their mission. Surely she could see that? She couldn't truly be as  stupid as she pretended. 

Weeks passed with no opportunity to talk. The Herald's time was much too valuable to waste on an unwashed apostate it seemed. She  did not deign to grace him with her presence  until she needed something in return— a  weatherbeaten tome on rift magic, compliments of  a now deceased Venatori.  The mark  on her hand had gotten Thedas' attention, but to keep it  Andraste's pet require d new tricks.  The manual to prolonging her little act lay on Solas' desk,  and he wouldn't  part with it easily.  The leverage was his. 

Solas watched with bemusement as the Inquisitor attempted small talk. He delighted in the pains she was taking to feign a casual air. Her nimble fingers skated over the rough leather of the desired tome and Lavellan glanced at it with a look of polite disinterest.

“Is this one of Dorian's?” she asked knowing full well that it was not. “It looks Tevinter.”

Solas wrinkled his brow in pretend thought to hide a feral smirk from forming. He couldn't give himself away yet. It would be much more satisfying to play along.

“Let me see,” he commanded—stretching his hand across the desk for the book.

Lavellan reluctantly turned it over to him.

“Ah,” he said pretending to examine the cover, “You are correct. It is Tevinter in origin, but this particular tome is from my private library. Though I have no doubt Dorian would enjoy studying it. It is an excellent read.”

“Then perhaps I should borrow it,” the Inquisitor suggested.

She looked up at him with the big, doe eyes that made the Commander stumble over his words.

_I am not Cullen,_ Solas thought indignantly. He was deeply insulted.

“That one is a bit...advanced.”

The pause was more for effect than diplomacy. Lavellan's eyes narrowed.

“I can make other recommendations if you wish,” he offered innocently.

_Perhaps_ , _Hard in Hightown?_ He wanted to add. _I've been told it_ _makes for an excellent bedtime read._

The Inquisitor's eyes flicked back to the tome in Solas' hands.

“It's on rift magic, no?” she asked cooly.

Lavellan flexed her hand and the anchor brightened. She shot her companion a patronisingly sweet smile.

“I'm sure I can handle it.”

Solas looked down at the papers on his desk refusing to gratify her with his attention.

“--and I'm certain you can't,” he replied curtly and without looking up.

He didn't have to look at her. He could feel her gaze on him—the anger radiating from her eyes as scorching as her magic. It was delightful.

“You're opinions don't concern me,” she replied flatly. “The Inquisition needs that tome. You are a friend of the Inquisition aren't you, Solas?”

The bald mage raised an eyebrow.

“Threats, Inquisitor? How very expected.”

Lavellan smiled at him—her full lips pulled tightly across teeth ready to be bared. She perched herself on the edge of his desk and rested a hand firmly on top of the book in question. He had to fight the urge to wrench it from her grasp.

“You don't approve of me,” she began nonchalantly. “That's fine. I don't need your approval. I have the approval of Thedas, and it seems the very gods themselves.”

Solas snorted.

“You can laugh all you like. Even you can't ignore the power I've been given.”

She lifted her hand, anchor flashing brightly to punctuate her words.

“I'm the only one who can seal the rifts and you would prevent me from learning about them? What an odd position to take.”

Solas faltered a bit at that. She did have a point.

“You do want the breach sealed don't you?”

Lavellan rubbed her chin in thought.

“Demons and people united in one world. It _does_ sound a bit like that idyllic little paradise you described to me back in Haven.”

Solas regretted ever trying to expand the woman's mind.

“Don't be absurd,” he spat. “I was the first to attempt to close the rift.”

“You were,” she agreed with a triumphant glint in her eye.

“But you couldn't do it, could you? You weren't special enough.”

_Special._ The word awakened something primal in Solas, something he hadn't felt in ages. Wasn't that the word Andruil and the others had used to justify their vices? They could take slaves--play their cruel games on the lesser masses. They were special.

_What does it matter, Fen'Harel?_ he could hear them cry. _They_ _are_ _not like us. It is our right_ _to do as we please_ _._

_“_ You don't want the tome for the Inquisition,” he accused. “You want it for your own selfish purposes.”

“I am the Inquisition,” Lavellan replied.

Her tone was crisp, but the air around them had taken on a muggy heat belying her emotions. He was getting to her. He could feel the flames of her annoyance lick at his skin.

“You are your own vanity,” he growled.

His own magic seethed to the surface and it was like ash. Lavellan stared blankly at him, and Solas knew she could feel just how calm he wasn't.

“You do want it,” she said with a hint of surprise. “You wish it had been yours.”

“Better me than a fool da'len drunk with authority.”

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow.

“Da'len? I think we both know you don't see me as a child--”

She leaned across the desk, her breath hot in his ear.

“-- _hahren.”_

 


End file.
